Felipe's Education
by KathyG
Summary: This pre-Zorro story, which is based on the Family Channel series, follows a very young Felipe's several-year educational progress from the close of "The Power of the Written Word" to the months prior to the events of "A Time of Rejoicing." While Felipe receives the classical education of a caballero, he learns to train horses and acquires many other skills.


**FELIPE'S EDUCATION**

**by KathyG.**

**This pre-Zorro story follows a very young Felipe's several-year educational progress from the close of "The Power of the Written Word" to the months prior to the events of "A Time of Rejoicing." While Felipe receives the classical education of a **_**caballero**_**, he learns to train horses and acquires many other skills.**

**Author's note: The reference to Diego's having gentled a difficult colt is an allusion to a scene in Susan O'Brien's wonderful story, "The Mark of the Sire," included in mine with her permission. Susan, thank you so much double-checking my horse facts to make sure they were correct, **_**and**_** for your gracious offer to let me make use of your story!**

Felipe Cortez sat cross-legged on a pile of hay next to Don Alejandro de la Vega in the breeding barn. Miguel, the head _vaquero_, and Tomaso, a stable boy who attended the mission school with Felipe, squatted nearby. A pregnant pinto mare, obviously in labor, lay squirming on her side in front of them.

The late-afternoon January sunshine streamed through the wide-open barn door; a jagged rectangle of reflected sunlight spread across the hay-strewn dirt floor. Epiphany had come and gone just a week before. As the mare writhed, Felipe wondered if she was groaning. Being deaf, he could not hear her noises.

_Poor thing!_ he thought. _Does it hurt real bad?_

As Felipe shifted position on the hay, little sharp ends pierced his white trousers underneath. Their jabs stung. His light-brown homespun cotton shirt had come untucked from his woolen sash, and now hung limply on his thighs.

The eight-year-old houseboy couldn't stop worrying. What if the same thing happened to the mare now, that had happened to the Andalusian mare over a year before? The thought made Felipe shudder. Princesa had died giving birth, and the foal-a palomino like his mother-had narrowly escaped his own death. What if this one didn't live? It _couldn't_ happen; Don Alejandro had promised the baby to Felipe!

_Please, God,_ Felipe prayed, _let the foal live!_ He made the sign of the cross and fidgeted. Tomaso followed suit.

Don Alejandro put his arm around the little servant boy's shoulders. "Stop worrying," he advised Felipe. "What's happening to the mare is simply what happens to all animals giving birth. This mare's not at all like Princesa; she's had foals before. The Indian chieftain who gave her to us has assured me of that. She's in excellent health, and she will survive the birth of this one."

Felipe nodded. He could only hope that Don Alejandro was right. The elderly _caballero_ straightened his bleached, finely-woven linen shirt and smoothed his dark-brown _charro_ jacket.

"The _patrón's_ right," Miguel told Felipe. "She's in a lot of pain right now, but that goes with havin' a baby. For women as well as animals."

Felipe winced. _Poor thing!_ he thought.

"They sure do." Tomaso scratched his neck. "I've been to several of these births. They're always like this." He picked up a piece of hay and snapped it in two.

In an attempt to get his mind off the mare's pain, Felipe reminisced about the day Don Alejandro had told Miguel of his intention, in mid-December...

_"Miguel, I've decided to give the foal to Felipe when it's born." Don Alejandro ruffled the boy's hair as the two men and Felipe stood in the corral where the pinto mare grazed. _

_The head_ vaquero_ nodded. "_Si, Patrón._ You want me to teach the boy how to train it?" The aged_ don_ nodded. _

_Felipe reached up to pat the mare's neck. He stared at her swollen stomach, only to have his attention diverted when the pinto nuzzled the little boy's hand. _

_When he turned around, Don Alejandro knelt before him. "You're going to be with us when her time comes," he said, "just as you were when Princesa gave birth. As you can see, it won't be long now till the baby is born. Miguel, here, will teach you how to raise and train the foal." Felipe nodded. _

_The head_ vaquero_ wagged his finger. "I expect you to do exactly as I say,_ muchacho_. Remember that!" Felipe nodded his acquiescence. _

_Don Alejandro chuckled. "Miguel, I have complete faith that Felipe will take good care of the foal and do everything you tell him. As we both know, he has a kind, gentle heart, and he loves horses." He rubbed Felipe's back as he spoke..._

Felipe smiled at the memory. He had waited impatiently for this day ever since. During that time, he had continued to help Miguel care for the late Princesa's palomino colt, promised to Don Alejandro's nephew, Rafael, and since named Crema for its lovely cream color. Don Rafael de la Vega, during his recent Christmas visit, had spent some time with Crema, had told Felipe stories about his own horses, and had given the little boy a toy horse as a Christmas present. Several _caballeros_, including Don Alejandro, had hosted the first eight _posadas_, and the tavern had hosted the ninth. To Felipe's delight, all the children who had attended the mission school with Felipe, including Tomaso, had taken part in every _posada_.

_I wish Don Rafael could see this,_ Felipe thought. _I wish Don Diego was here to see the baby, too!_ Don Diego, Don Alejandro's only son, had gone to Madrid the previous summer, to complete his education at the university there. Since then, Felipe had been receiving his own education from Don Alejandro, supplemented with science lessons from Don Diego's former British tutor, Jonathan Spencer. Don Rafael lived in Santa Barbara, where he owned a horse ranch. When Crema was 4 or 5 years old, Don Rafael would take him to his own ranch. Felipe puckered his lips at the thought; in an attempt to push it aside, he started to reminisce.

_Don Alejandro hired me in November, 1815,_ Felipe thought. _Don Diego went to Madrid in June, 1816. Now it's January, 1817._ Mentally, he counted the months. _I've been here on this ranch for 14 months! That's a year and two months. Santa Maria!_ The little boy sobered. _My mamá and papá have been dead for 17 months. I wish they were here!_

Felipe's parents, impoverished _peons_, had been killed in a revolutionary battle in central Mexico during the late summer of 1815; three days later, Don Diego and his tutor had found him sitting under a tree, lost, terrified, and grief-stricken. After a long, futile effort to find the seven-year-old child a home, the two gentlemen had brought Felipe to Los Angeles, where Diego's father had hired him as an indentured servant.

Felipe blinked his eyes to erase the memories. The foal was about to be born; it would be awful to miss that!

A few minutes later, the mare grunted and strained. As if by magic, a tiny foal slid onto the hay, head on his forelegs like a diver.

"It's a colt," Miguel announced. Grinning at Felipe, Tomaso wriggled.

Felipe wanted to jump for joy, but he restrained the impulse. The mare still had to lick her foal dry. Long moments passed as she did just that.

At last, Don Alejandro smiled at Felipe. "Well, my boy, what do you want to name him?" He took a piece of parchment and a pencil out of his inside jacket pocket. "Write it on this."

Felipe thought for a moment, then smiled. He laid the parchment on his trouser-clad right leg and scrawled a name on the surface. He handed the parchment and pencil to the elderly _caballero_.

"'Parche,'" Don Alejandro read aloud. "So that's what you want to name the colt?" Felipe nodded. "Very well." He folded the parchment, and inserted it and the pencil back into his jacket pocket. "Parche, it is." He glanced at the foal. "You may pet him now, Felipe. Gently."

Felipe bent forward and rubbed the foal's still-wet withers. Parche, like his mother, had black and white pinto markings. While the mother rose to her feet, the foal raised his head to stare at Felipe. Still crouched, the little boy smiled and rubbed the newborn colt's forehead. Parche, in turn, licked Felipe's fingers.

Suddenly, the foal struggled to its feet. As the mare stood quietly, it wobbled toward her soft udder. Soon, it started sucking one of her teats.

Felipe and Don Alejandro smiled at each other. "The foal will be just fine," the aged _don_ said. "He's off to a good start. And since his mother has survived his birth, we won't even have to find a nursing mare."

Smiling broadly, Felipe nodded agreement. When the colt finished nursing, Felipe rubbed his back. Silently, he wished he could speak to Parche as the others could.

Minutes later, a hand resting on his shoulder startled the boy. He craned his head to see Don Alejandro kneeling over him.

"It's time to finish your lessons, _amigo_." The _patrón_ glanced at his gold timepiece. "You've finished your lesson in the Third Reader and your poem, and you've gone over 'Hamlet' in _Tales from Shakespeare_. But you still have a Bible verse to recite and some verses to copy into your copybook. And don't forget your science lesson. Señor Spencer is probably waiting for you now." Don Alejandro smiled. "Oh, and you still have some Latin and French words to review, as well as a composition to write. So let's go. I'll let you come back to see Parche when you're done, I promise."

Felipe groaned inwardly. He normally didn't mind doing his schoolwork-he had learned to love his lessons-but he didn't want to leave the new foal for anything. However, since Miguel's earlier announcement that the mare was in labor had interrupted his morning lessons, Felipe had known that he would have to finish them before that day was out.

Longingly, he gazed back at the colt as Don Alejandro led him out the door. The flood of sunlight hurt his eyes, until they adjusted. _I'll take good care of you, Parche,_ Felipe thought, swinging his _sombrero_ by the string. _I promise_.

During the weeks and months that followed, Felipe kept his promise faithfully. He spent every spare minute he could from his tasks and lessons to play with and help care for Parche. Miguel supervised the little boy's grooming and training sessions with Parche, and Tomaso helped him take care of the foal. It was not easy to find time to do so when school itself was in session, as Felipe's own lessons and duties took the bulk of his hours then. Still, with Miguel's and Tomaso's help, he managed.

Since Felipe had not started to attend the mission school till he turned eight, he had three years to make up, so he had to attend two three-month terms a year at first, as well as attend catechism class once a week the rest of the time. He attended the mission school from February through April, then attended it with Tomaso from September through November. During both terms, the teacher taught the children the rudiments of reading, the catechism, and straw-weaving. When they had completed their lessons in the Second Reader, she would teach them to print, then to write cursive. Last, she would teach them simple arithmetic. Felipe, of course, had already learned those skills, thanks to Don Alejandro.

The majority of Felipe's schoolmates were peasants like himself, and the rest consisted of the sons and daughters of _caballeros_. Of all the peasant children, only Felipe received tutoring at home (as did the rich landowners' children, all of whom had their own hired tutors and governesses, as well as _niñeras_ to help raise them), so he had already attained academic skills the other peasant children hadn't even begun to learn. Since Felipe's reading and writing skills far surpassed theirs, the reading class bored him. The catechism and crafts classes engaged his attention, though, and he enjoyed playing with his classmates during break.

"Read this after me," the teacher ordered, tapping the blackboard with her pointer. As the other children chanted aloud the sentence she had printed there, Felipe, who sat in the front row, mouthed it silently: "'The cat slept on the floor.'"

With difficulty, Felipe suppressed the urge to fidget, since the teacher forbade them to do so. That lesson was _so_ boring! Even though he had commenced studying the Third Reader at home, he still had to study the First Reader at school during that term.

All the while, Felipe continued his lessons at home, seven days a week. Don Alejandro was determined to give the servant boy a classical education. To that end, Felipe studied his catechism daily; he studied spelling, grammar, and vocabulary; he practiced his handwriting by copying words and passages in his copybook; and he wrote daily compositions on various subjects. In addition to his Latin lessons, he now studied French. Unlike the reading lessons at church, Felipe's home lessons engrossed him and held his interest.

In addition to the lessons in his reader, Felipe read selections from a two-volume collection of poetry, a poem a day. He also read, on a daily basis, short passages Don Alejandro picked from the Bible. Felipe memorized a Scripture verse every day and a poem once a week. And he kept a journal.

Once a month, the little boy wrote a long letter to Don Diego and another to Don Rafael, in response to their own letters. He received weekly lessons in drawing, sculpture, and art appreciation. And to improve Felipe's lipreading and handwriting skills, Don Alejandro told the boy stories, recited poems, and dictated sentences for Felipe to copy, every day.

"All right, let's see." Don Alejandro clasped his hands behind his back, one day. "Watch my lips carefully, Felipe, and write down this sentence after I say it." Felipe nodded, fastening his eyes on the _patrón's_ lips. "'Saint Paul was an apostle to the Gentiles.'" Felipe furrowed his eyebrows in puzzlement; he had missed part of what his elderly _patrón_ had said. Slowly, Don Alejandro repeated, "'Saint Paul was an apostle to the Gentiles.'"

Felipe nodded. He understood now. From the beginning, receiving lessons in dictation had been as much an exercise in lip-reading as it was in improving his handwriting; so often, Don Alejandro had to repeat the sentence being dictated-sometimes more than once-before Felipe understood every word of it. Picking up his quill pen, Felipe dipped it into Don Alejandro's gold inkwell. Slowly and carefully, the servant boy copied the sentence in his copybook, just as Don Alejandro had spoken it. "'Saint Paul was an apostle to the Gentiles.'" To his relief, the ink did not drip onto the crisp page. Whenever that happened, the ink would make an blot on the page, making it look so untidy.

All the while, Felipe's right leg dangled over the side of the cushioned armchair facing the table where Don Alejandro normally kept his chessboard. The mattress sagged under his weight.

When Felipe finished writing, the elderly _caballero_ looked at the copybook and smiled his approval. "Well done, my boy! Every word is correct." Don Alejandro hugged his beaming servant boy, then smoothed his grayish-blue frockcoat and straightened his ruffled linen sleeves. "All right, Felipe, now prepare to write one more sentence. 'Procrastination is the thief of time.'"

Felipe finished studying the Third Reader and went onto the Fourth. By then, he had read and re-read every play-turned-story in Charles and Mary Lamb's _Tales from Shakespeare_, so he was ready to start reading the original plays, translated into Spanish. Don Alejandro started him with _Macbeth_, and also proceeded to teach the boy English. At the same time, Felipe began to study the Bible from cover to cover, starting with the Book of Genesis. He read a book in the evenings every two weeks, to report on when finished. His catechism lessons, meanwhile, continued.

Until then, Jonathan Spencer had come periodically to give Felipe a science lesson, in the evenings. Now, he came every evening. While Felipe was in the Fourth Reader, the British tutor taught him astronomy; when Felipe studied the Fifth Reader, Señor Spencer taught him what was known about the earth and its history.

When Felipe began to study the Sixth Reader, the last reader in the series, Jonathan proceeded to teach the nine-year-old boy the rudiments of biology.

"This will be your science curriculum from now until Diego returns from Madrid," the cultured English tutor told Felipe. "At that point, Don Diego will take over your education, so he will teach you the other branches of science he is now learning at the university."

All the while, Felipe and Don Alejandro continued to play chess on a daily basis, as they had done since the beginning of Felipe's education. The boy's chess skills grew by leaps and bounds.

When Felipe was almost 10 years old, he finished his lessons in the Sixth Reader. By then, he could read and understand just about any book in Spanish, Latin, and French; he could lip-read the spoken versions, and could write letters and essays in all three languages. He could even write short, simple sentences in English. However, he found it more difficult to lip-read spoken English than he did the other languages, since so many of its sounds could not be seen on the speaker's lips. Likewise, its spelling was harder to master, since so many English words were not spelled the way they sounded.

The day after Felipe had finished the Sixth Reader, Don Alejandro and Señor Spencer sat him down in the library for a talk. The couch's mattress sagged underneath the boy's weight as he leaned back.

"Felipe, I'm so proud of you." Don Alejandro smiled. "You've learned so much in the two years Señor Spencer and I have been teaching you. A young _caballero_ couldn't have done better." Felipe beamed his appreciation of his _patrón's_ praise.

Don Alejandro paused. "Now you're ready for a new phase of your studies. From now on, _amigo,_ your lessons will be coordinated in the following fashion. Your arithmetic lessons will continue as they have, until you're ready to learn algebra, and so will your Bible, catechism, art, and biology lessons. Oh yes, and your study of foreign languages." Felipe nodded.

The aged _don_ paused to brush a speck of dust off his black _charro_ jacket's gilt embroidery. "But starting today, I will teach you world history, little by little, in-depth. During each phase of the history you learn, you will read its literature, and learn its art, its scientific discoveries, etc. Your dictation exercises will come from the books I use for your curriculum, as well as from the Bible. In that way, _amigo,_ you will come to thoroughly know and understand each era, and what it consisted of."

Jonathan nodded. "I will teach you about the scientific discoveries of those eras, Felipe, and Don Alejandro will teach you the rest."

Felipe acquiesced. With signs, he asked what he was going to learn first.

Don Alejandro leaned back. "We will begin with Mesopotamia and Egypt today, and work forward in history from there." He took his gold timepiece out of his satin vest pocket to check the time. Slipping it back into his vest pocket, he added, "Starting right now."

The elderly _caballero_ rose to his feet and unrolled his world map. "Show me where Egypt is." Felipe pressed his finger against the name on the map. "Very good. Egypt is in north Africa. In the Sahara Desert, to be exact."

"I'll see you tonight." Señor Spencer patted the boy's shoulder and left. Felipe glanced down at his oversized white shirt, before taking the heavy, leather-bound book Don Alejandro held out to him.

Felipe's first lesson in Egyptian history began with the Pharaohs. Felipe already knew the Biblical account of the Hebrews' exodus from Egypt, where they had been slaves. But that day, he learned some facts about the ancient Egyptian government he had never learned from the Bible.

"You've done well, _amigo_." Don Alejandro patted Felipe's back. "We'll pick up where we left off, tomorrow. We'll do a lesson on Mesopotamia then, too."

And they did, the next day and every day after that (except Sundays). For history, Felipe studied the politics, family life, economics, warfare, religions, etc., of ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia, where Abraham, his descendants, and the Egyptian Pharoahs had lived. Having twice read the Bible from cover to cover, both in Spanish and in Latin, and having memorized hundreds of verses in the process, the knowledge Felipe had acquired in the process now aided his studies in Mesopotamian and Egyptian history.

He read and-with Don Alejandro's guidance-analyzed the literature of those two ancient cultures, translated into Spanish. He studied their drawings, their paintings, their sculpture, and their architecture. On a daily basis, the young boy wrote essays about what he read, and Don Alejandro required him to copy on the pages in his copybook dictated quotes from the books he read. The elderly _caballero_ also dictated Bible verses to the young boy, to copy.

All the while, the two of them would discuss what he'd learned; during these discussions, and in his written essays, Felipe would relate his knowledge to other things he knew, making connections and learning to see where the various branches of knowledge tied in together. Meanwhile, at the mission school, he and his classmates received lessons in printing letters and words, in pottery, and in the catechism. Now that Felipe was 10, he was almost caught up in his lessons at the mission school; after that year, he knew, he would only attend one three-month term a year.

When Felipe wasn't studying, he performed his daily tasks. The servant boy ran errands to the _vaqueros_ and to neighboring _haciendas_, and sometimes to people in town. He opened and closed carriage doors for visitors, fetched items for Don Alejandro, and polished Don Alejandro's boots every morning. He also brought the aged _don_ his shaving materials in the mornings, before polishing the _patrón's_ boots. Sometimes, Felipe swept the front rooms' carpets. Every Saturday, he performed a regular farm chore for two hours, as he had done on a weekly basis since the de la Vegas had hired him.

During Felipe's leisure hours, Don Alejandro often took the servant boy swimming, birdwatching, and riding. Several times a week, they went to the tavern to visit the innkeeper, Victoria Escalante, and order a meal or just something to drink. While the elderly _caballero_ rode his beloved mare, Dulcinea, Felipe would ride his Shetland pony, Ocho. Just as frequently, Victoria paid them a visit at the _hacienda_.

Once a week, as was the custom, Don Alejandro and Felipe paid a visit to one of the de la Vegas' tenants. If the farmer had children, Felipe would play with them while Don Alejandro visited with the farmer. Every week, he and Don Alejandro attended confession on Saturdays and Mass on Sundays; once a month, he took his turn as altar boy during the worship service. Every day, he prayed with his rosary, as he had done since his late mother had bequeathed it to him in the fateful battle that had killed her and Felipe's father.

Every day, no matter what, Felipe spent time with Parche and Crema. Often, Tomaso would join him, and the two would groom the two colts together. As he had done since its birth, Felipe watched Miguel gentle and train Crema, and Miguel often enlisted his help.

"Giddyap!" Miguel pressed his boots against Crema's sides. Under the _vaquero's_ guidance, Crema galloped in ever-smaller circles. All the while, Felipe observed Miguel's movements carefully. When Parche was old enough, he would be teaching the pinto to do the same thing, so it behooved him to learn all he could about the process now. From time to time, the little boy wiped his sweaty face.

Old memories sprang into his head. Felipe remembered the moment when Crema had first stood on his wobbly legs, shortly after his mother had died giving birth...the way he would nuzzle Felipe's hand as Felipe petted him...the grace with which Crema ran when a rider sat on his back...and the rigorous training Miguel gave the palomino as Felipe watched.

_He's a wonderful horse,_ the ten-year-old boy thought, smiling. _I love him as much as I do Parche._ The boy grimaced. _I wish he didn't have to go away! I wish he could live here, not go off to live with Don Rafael._ Felipe pulled his soft cotton handkerchief out of his woolen sash and wiped the beads of sweat off his face.

Miguel dismounted. "Come with me, Felipe. You can help me groom him." The servant boy scampered ahead of Miguel toward the stable.

Felipe had fallen in love with horses during his journey from Mexico to California. During that time, he had spent every moment he could with Don Diego and Señor Spencer's horses. Here on the de la Vega _rancho_, the little boy spent much of his spare time with the the de la Vegas' horses. The summer when Diego had left for Madrid, Don Alejandro had given an eight-year-old Felipe his own Shetland pony, and Miguel had taught him to ride. The following January, Parche had been born.

_I'll never forget when Don Alejandro gave me Ocho,_ Felipe thought. _He said it was a reward for doing well in my studies._ Smiling, he rubbed the colt's forehead as Miguel brushed its back. _I love you, Parche. I love you, Crema. I love you, Ocho._

And so the daily routine went on. The boys spent much time playing with the horses, and they helped Miguel take care of them.

"They sure are cute," Tomaso would say. "Aren't you, _muchachos_?" Felipe would smile in response.

One day, while the two boys played with Parche and Crema, Miguel strode into the breeding barn. "It's time to start training Parche, Felipe," he said. "He's three years old now. He won't be ready to jump for another year, but you can begin to teach him to trot and gallop and do other things, now."

With a grin that spread from ear to ear, Felipe, now 11, patted Parche's withers; excitement rose in his heart. Under Miguel's supervision, he had already taught the pinto colt to wear a halter, to walk on a lead rope, and to pick up his feet. Now Miguel would instruct him how to train Parche to wear a saddle and bit, to carry a rider, and to walk, trot, canter, and gallop on command. Felipe could hardly wait to begin!

As Miguel and Tomaso watched, Felipe fastened the halter on Parche and led him outside. "Before you can even teach him to wear a saddle and carry a rider, first he must learn to walk, trot, canter, and gallop." Miguel picked up a lunge line as he spoke. "You'll need to hook him to this to teach him. Two people will be needed to train him, at first-one to hold the end of this line, the other to lead him by the halter. Since this is your first time training a horse, Felipe, I'll hold the lunge line and Tomaso will give the orders with signs. Watch us carefully when we do."

As Felipe watched, Miguel clicked his teeth. Tomaso then led the colt around and around in a circle, while Miguel held the end of the line firmly in his grasp. All the while, a breeze caressed the houseboy's elfin face and ruffled his brown hair.

At last, Tomaso stopped. "All right, Felipe; it's your turn." Miguel nodded toward the young pinto as he spoke. "I want you to take Tomaso's place and do what you saw him do. You watch me, and then see that Parche does as he's told."

Rolling up his light-blue sleeves, Felipe raced toward his pony and grabbed hold of the halter. He turned toward Miguel, who clicked his teeth again. This time, to his dismay, Parche refused to budge.

_Come on, Parche!_ he thought, as he patted the horse's neck. _You can do it._ He tugged Parche's halter, to no avail.

Felipe shot a desperate look at Miguel, who chuckled. "Think, _amigo_." He tapped his head. "You saw this happen before."

Felipe remembered the days Don Diego had gentled a yearling colt just before his departure for Spain. The colt had been a gift from the royal family, and Diego had taken it upon himself to train it during the evenings. Felipe had sometimes watched the training sessions. Don Diego, as the boy recalled, had never struck the colt, or treated it roughly in any way, even though it was very stubborn and hard to handle.

_Don Alejandro wouldn't let me play with it,_ he thought. _He said it would hurt me. Don Diego was the only one the colt would mind._ Felipe bit his lip. What would Don Diego do with Parche, to make him mind?

Desperately, Felipe pointed ahead of him and patted Parche's back. No response. He did the same thing again.

This time, Parche took a step forward. Then another. Felipe sighed with relief.

He led the colt in the same circle. When the servant boy stopped Parche, he patted the pinto's withers. _Good boy,_ Felipe mouthed. _Good boy! You did it!_ He hugged Parche's neck.

Miguel beckoned to the boy. "Remember the sign I used?" Felipe nodded. "Tomaso is going to lead Parche this time, and you're going to hold the lunge line. Click your teeth the way Tomaso and I did, to tell him to walk."

Felipe did as he was told. This time, the young pony obeyed immediately. For several minutes, Tomaso led him around and around in circles. Under Miguel's guidance, Felipe taught Parche to walk and to halt on command, using hand signals.

At last, Miguel raised his hand. "Enough. Parche'll get tired and sullen if we work him too long. You boys help me groom him. A good horseman always grooms his horse after a workout."

For the next fifteen minutes, the boys groomed Parche while Miguel cleaned the halter and lunge line. As the _vaquero_ strode outside with Felipe in tow, once the job was finished, a black-haired boy approached them. He wore a dark-red velvet shirt with a silk Vandyke collar, matching breeches, a bright-red satin sash, snow-white socks, and a pair of shiny black shoes with gleaming silver buckles. Felipe immediately recognized him as the son of a _caballero_, and as one of his classmates.

_Don Fernando's son!_ Felipe thought. _Don Fernando must be here. Maybe he wants to buy some horses from Don Alejandro._ Don Fernando de la Reales was a neighboring landowner.

_"Hola."_ The boy slowly approached. Admiration shone in his blue eyes. "Miguel's teaching you to gentle a horse?" Felipe nodded, smiling.

The boy returned his smile. "My papá's giving me lessons, too. Someday, the de la Reales _hacienda_ will be mine, you see, so I've got to know how to care for horses." Felipe nodded agreement. "_Mi llamo_ Julio de la Reales. You're Felipe, I know. We go to school together, remember?" Felipe nodded, they did. However, Julio had never approached Felipe to invite him to play, so the two had never gotten acquainted. "Are you going to become a stable boy now?"

Miguel answered for Felipe. "No, he's not, young _señor_. The _patrón_ gave Parche to Felipe when he was born, and ordered that he learn how to train him. This is his first lesson."

Julio nodded. "You didn't see me, but I saw you." He brushed his coal-black hair out of his eyes. "My papá's buying some horses from Don Alejandro, and he said I could come here to watch. Felipe is good!"

Felipe smiled shyly and glanced down. A hand rested on his shoulder; Felipe looked up at Miguel. "You will be a good horseman, Felipe. You have the patience, the sure hand needed. And you love horses."

Felipe smiled his thanks. Miguel didn't often give out praise, so to receive some from the usually-gruff _vaquero_ foreman really meant something. Shyly, the 11-year-old boy nodded, then glanced at the feathery wisps of clouds floating overhead. The breeze had died down minutes before, so beads of sweat rolled down Felipe's forehead.

Don Alejandro and Don Fernando stepped up, just then, dressed in their best. "Felipe, we were watching too, and I agree with Miguel and Julio." Don Alejandro smiled approvingly. "You did a fine job today, even when Parche turned balky and didn't want to walk. You follow Miguel's instructions and you will become a first-rate horse trainer." He removed a snow-white silk handkerchief from his frockcoat's inside pocket to wipe his perspiring face.

Julio approached Felipe. "Would you like to see my pony?" Felipe nodded vigorously.

A few minutes later, in front of the house, Felipe softly stroked the white Jennet's soft fur. The pony nuzzled his hand. Julio rubbed its withers.

"His name is Blanco," the boy said. "Papá gave him to me two years ago, for my ninth birthday. Jennets are easy to train, Papá says, because they're-uh-"

"Docile." Julio's father smiled. "They make excellent children's ponies for that reason." Don Fernando patted his son's shoulders. "Would you like to show Felipe the stallion you're training?"

Julio grinned. Chuckling, Don Alejandro said, "I have no objection. Felipe, you have my permission to visit Julio and spend the rest of the afternoon there. Ride Ocho to the de la Reales _hacienda_, so you'll have a way to come home. Stay off the de la Reales' horses, though; I don't want you to ride other people's mounts until you're a little older." Felipe nodded his acquiescence.

Minutes later, he followed Señor de la Reales and Julio on his Shetland pony. At their _hacienda_, Felipe played with the horses and watched admiringly as Julio rode a spirited brown Andalusian in circles.

At last, Don Fernando approached the two boys. "It's time for you to go home, Felipe. I'll have one of my _vaqueros_ ride home with you."

"Please, Papá," Julio begged, "could Felipe come again?"

Don Fernando glanced at Felipe. "If he wants to, I have no objection. Would you like to come again, Felipe?" Grinning from ear to ear and swinging his _sombrero_, Felipe nodded.

During the days and weeks that followed, he did just that. Two or three times a week, Felipe would ride to the de la Reales _hacienda_, or Julio would visit Felipe. Whenever he could get time from his duties, Tomaso would join them.

The three boys would pretend to be farmers, soldiers, bullfighters, _vaqueros,_ or master swordsmen. When Julio visited Felipe, they frequently played checkers with Felipe's checkerboard, and amused themselves with his toys in the enclosed _patio_ or one of the front rooms; when Felipe visited Julio, they played with Julio's in his bedroom. And the two boys rode their horses and had picnics. Since Parche had not yet been trained to carry a rider, Felipe rode Ocho.

Meanwhile, every day, Felipe trained Parche under Miguel's supervision. Before the first month was out, the pinto had learned to walk on command, to wear a bit, and to turn. Miguel began to tie a sack of grain, carefully measured to weigh as much as a man, on the pony's back; holding the lunge line, Felipe would order Parche to go through his paces. Often, Julio came to watch, as did Don Alejandro.

One afternoon, when Felipe returned from a visit to the de la Reales _hacienda_, Don Alejandro sat him down in the drawing room. The two reclined on the blue satin-brocade couch, facing each other. One wore a frockcoat; the other had on, as usual, an unbleached cotton shirt and trousers.

"It pleases me that you and Julio have fun together." Don Alejandro ruffled the boy's hair. Smiling, Felipe scratched his neck. He did like Julio, and Tomaso as well.

Don Alejandro leaned forward. "Julio's father has told me that they may invite you to dine with them one of these days." Felipe's brown eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. "_Si,_ he said that." The aged _don_ chuckled. "That means I've got to teach you something you've never needed to know before."

Felipe furrowed his eyebrows. What new thing?

Don Alejandro put his arm around the boy's shoulders. "Felipe, by this time, you've long since learned that _caballeros_ must learn table manners poor people don't have to concern themselves with. Indeed, you've seen my nephew, Señorita Escalante, and me use them whenever you've eaten Christmas and Epiphany dinners with us."

Felipe nodded agreement, while a sense of foreboding arose in his stomach. What Don Alejandro had just said was true; Felipe had indeed seen, firsthand, the de la Vegas and Victoria Escalante use fancy table manners such as the nobility and the landed gentry used. The de la Vegas stood in as Felipe's guardians on Christmas Day and Epiphany. On both days, Felipe would open his presents in the drawing room with his _patróns_, and would eat dinner with them at the dining table.

"Until now, I've never required you to use the table manners that gentlemen use. I always allowed you to use the ones you learned in the kitchen. However-" Don Alejandro paused to clear his throat. "However, my boy, as of today, you must learn our table manners, too."

Felipe gulped. This was the last thing he wanted to do! In a rush, the old resentment at having to learn the new manners and customs living at the de la Vega _hacienda_ had forced on him welled up into his throat. _No other_ peons_ have to know this stuff!_ he thought. _Why me?!_ He swallowed hard, then shook his head pleadingly.

Don Alejandro cupped the boy's chin. "Yes, Felipe, you must. It will not be so bad as you fear, _amigo_; I promise you that. It won't be necessary to use them in the kitchen, but you _will_ need them when you eat at Julio's. And when you eat with my guests and me during the Christmas holidays."

Felipe bent his head down so the _patrón_ wouldn't see the irritation etched on his face. Why should he have to learn such things? Wasn't it enough that he'd had to learn to eat with a knife and fork, etc? He had already learned the table manners he needed to eat in the kitchen and the tavern. Why should he have to learn more?! Sullenly, Felipe glared down at his blue-and-white checked shirt, while running his index finger over the blue mattress sagging underneath him. When Don Alejandro tapped his shoulder, the young boy reluctantly raised his face toward the _patrón's_.

"Come on." Don Alejandro rose to his feet and inserted his fingers into his satin vest pockets. "This is not something the other servants can teach you, Felipe, so I must do it myself. We're going to eat outside, you and me, since it would not be proper for you to eat in the dining room."

With a sigh, Felipe trudged out the door at Don Alejandro's heels. _I'm not a_ caballero_!_ the boy thought, thrusting out his lower lip. _Why should _I_ have to learn this stuff? I already have to stand up straight; I have to tuck my shirt in now; I have to eat with knives and spoons and forks, instead of _tortillas_; and I have to learn as much from books as_ caballeros_. No other peasant has to learn all that; why do I? It's not fair!_

A small meal, complete with a glistening, snow-white tablecloth, gleaming silverware, two crystal finger bowls, two crystal glasses of lemonade, and two china bowls of steaming _albondiga_ soup had been set up on the small round table in the front garden. A china plate piled high with fat chunks of soft bread rested in the middle of the table. Felipe plopped onto a wicket chair, and Don Alejandro lowered himself onto the high-backed bench.

"We're going to do this every day for the next week or two." The aged _don_ picked up his napkin as he spoke. "Then we'll practice what I've taught you twice a week. Sit up straight, my boy; don't slouch."

Felipe sighed out his surrender. He had no choice. He had to do as he was told.

"All right, _amigo_. Pick up the napkin in front of you." Felipe did. "Unfold it, and spread it on your lap. Like this."

Don Alejandro spread his napkin across his grayish-blue trousers. Watching intently, Felipe obeyed. A light breeze caressed his soft cheeks.

The elderly _caballero_ nodded his approval. "Good boy. Before we do anything more, let's ask the blessing." The two bowed their heads to do just that. Silently, Felipe recited the blessing in his head, then raised his head. Don Alejandro leaned forward. "Now, you've already learned how to use a fork, a knife, and a spoon. You've used a spoon to eat your soup numerous times since you came here. Now, you must learn some finer points of silverware usage, such as you've seen me use." He picked up his gleaming silver spoon. "Dip it into the soup, as you already know how to do."

Reluctantly, Felipe did as he was told. Don Alejandro taught him how to eat his soup and bread neatly, and to use his napkin when he spilled any soup or bread crumbs. He showed the boy how to sip his lemonade instead of gulping it.

When a servant took away the soup and brought china plates of _enchiladas_, the aged _don_ taught the boy how to cut off little pieces with his fork and chew them slowly. He instructed Felipe how to use his crystal finger bowl to rinse food off his fingers.

When the meal was over, Don Alejandro rose to his feet and hugged Felipe. "I'm so proud of you!" He beamed as he spoke. "You're off to a good start. We'll have another lesson tomorrow, at this time. Now what do you say we go check on Parche?"

Felipe leaped to his feet. He did not need to be told twice! The two of them spent the next hour playing with Parche and several of the colts.

True to his word, Don Alejandro gave Felipe lessons in gentlemanly table manners every day for the next two weeks. By the end of the first week, the servant boy could conduct himself at the table as well as his _patrón_. By the end of the second week, he had learned the new set of manners so well there was no danger of his forgetting them. When Don Alejandro was satisfied that Felipe had learned everything he needed to know, he cut back the lessons to twice a week.

One day, following such a review lesson, Don Alejandro and Felipe, now 12, rode to the de la Reales _hacienda_. Don Alejandro had donned a golden-brown _charro_ jacket. Glancing at it, Felipe wondered if the _patrón_ had had to wear velvet outfits like those Julio owned, when he was a boy. He knew that Don Diego had, from stories Don Alejandro and Don Rafael had told him, and from paintings Felipe had seen of Diego as a child. And for that matter, so had Don Rafael.

At the de la Reales _hacienda_, a servant took charge of their horses when Don Alejandro and Felipe dismounted. Don Fernando looked grief-stricken as he and his son greeted their visitors in the drawing room.

"I've got the saddest news, Alejandro." He sighed.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Don Alejandro folded his arms across his chest. "What's wrong, Fernando?"

Don Fernando shook his head. "The _alcalde_ died in his sleep last evening."

Don Alejandro froze in evident shock; his arms dropped to his sides. Felipe felt as if a huge rock had slammed into his brain. Their _alcalde_ dead?! It couldn't be! The _alcalde_ had always been kind to him, and Felipe had liked him.

_He can't be dead,_ Felipe thought. _He can't!_ For a moment, he stared down at the gleaming marble floor underneath his sandal-clad feet.

Next to Felipe, Don Alejandro just stood stock-still, grief etched on his face. "God rest his soul," he said, at last. "He was such a fine man and a good _alcalde_. Has his funeral been scheduled yet?"

Don Fernando nodded. "There's to be a memorial service tomorrow morning. His body will be returned to his home city for burial. Are you coming to the memorial service?" Don Alejandro inclined his head.

His host turned to Julio. "You may play with Felipe, son, while I visit with Don Alejandro. We've got things to discuss."

Julio nodded. "Yes, Papá. Come with me, Felipe. I've got some new toy soldiers to show you." He led the way to his bedroom.

Julio and Felipe played in Julio's quarters for the next two hours. "Papá went to town this morning," Julio said. "He found out the bad news there. He and Mamá have been sad ever since." He picked up two of his toy soldiers as he spoke, and handed one of them to Felipe.

The boys played quietly until Don Alejandro sent for Felipe. On the ride home, the boy couldn't stop thinking about the _alcalde_. He had always taken the time to speak to Felipe whenever he had come to visit the _hacienda_; sometimes, he would bring the little boy a present or tell him a story.

Grief welled up in Felipe's heart, and he swallowed convulsive sobs. He took little notice of the clumps of clouds drifting eastward, or the groves of trees he and Don Alejandro passed.

The elderly _caballero_ gazed down at him. "I know, _amigo_." He smiled wanly. "I feel sad, too. We all do. He was a good man, and he will be sorely missed."

Felipe signed a question. Don Alejandro straightened his back. "The governor will send us a new _alcalde_, of course. But when he will, or who the new _alcalde_ will be, nobody knows yet. Until we get one, Sergeant Mendoza will be our acting _alcalde_."

Felipe nodded. He liked Sergeant Jaime Mendoza, a plump, good man who was kind to Felipe. The sergeant had joined the _pueblo_ garrison just before Diego had left for Madrid. He was well-known for his kind heart and for his inordinate love of food.

Don Alejandro bent sideways to tap Felipe's shoulder. "Felipe, I'm afraid I've got more sad news." Felipe stiffened, dreading to learn it. "Today, I'm sending some of my _vaqueros_ to deliver Crema to my nephew Rafael's _hacienda_."

Felipe froze, horror-stricken. He shook his head pleadingly. _No,_ he thought. _No! No!_

"Yes." Don Alejandro squeezed the servant boy's shoulder. "Crema is five years old, now. It's time I sent him to his promised owner. His training is complete and he's ready to go."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes anew. That day was turning out to be a total disaster! First the death of the _alcalde_, and now this!

The two of them rode homeward without any further talk. Don Alejandro sat tall and straight in the saddle, and Felipe tried to. When they arrived at the _hacienda_, Felipe leaped off Ocho and rushed toward the stable, fearful that Crema might have already been taken away. He couldn't stand the thought of losing the cream-colored Andalusian. After all, Felipe had helped raise him!

Felipe found Miguel and two of his _vaqueros_ leading Crema out of the stable, tethered to another horse. Sobbing silently, Felipe flung his arms around the palomino's velvety neck. _I love you,_ he thought. _I don't want you to go! I want you to stay here!_

A hand rested on his shoulder; Felipe raised his tear-stained face toward Miguel's. "I know how you feel, _amigo,_" he said. His usually gruff expression looked sad. "I hate to say good-bye to Crema, too; he's a good horse, and a valuable one. As a _vaquero_, I've had to say _adios_ to many of the _patrón's_ horses, and it does not get easier with time." Sniffling, Felipe nodded reluctantly.

Miguel rubbed the tears off Felipe's cheeks. "He will be in a good hands with Don Rafael." He patted Crema's withers as he spoke. "Don Rafael and his ranch hands will take good care of Crema, and treat him well."

Felipe nodded again. He knew that, so he didn't fear for the horse. But the thought that he would never see Parche again, never get to play with him or take care of him, filled the young boy with grief.

Don Alejandro approached them. "It's time to say good-bye to Crema, Felipe. My _vaqueros_ must take him away now."

Felipe hugged the horse once more, and patted his soft velvety cheek. Then the _vaqueros_ mounted their own horses and led Crema away. Felipe gazed at the stallion until he had disappeared from sight. Silently, the young boy wiped his sweaty, tear-stricken face with his cotton handkerchief.

Don Alejandro put his arm around Felipe's shoulder. "Come, my boy. Let's pay Parche a visit, shall we? Then we'll go in the house, you and me, and play a game of chess."

Stuffing his handkerchief back into his sash, Felipe nodded. He followed his _patrón_ into the stable, stopping momentarily to greet Ocho, newly groomed.

In Parche's stall, Don Alejandro leaned against the wall. "Felipe, you are doing an excellent job training him." He patted the pinto's cheek. "In the year you've worked with him, you have taught him so much. Parche has learned to walk, to trot, to canter, and to gallop. He has learned to wear a saddle and bit, to carry a rider, and to do so many other things. You've taught him well, my boy." Felipe smiled, in spite of his grief.

"Now he must learn to jump." Don Alejandro rubbed Parche's withers as he spoke. "Miguel will teach you how to train him safely, so you won't get hurt. Also, you might want to consider training him for the upcoming races. How would you like to enter him in some competitions, _amigo_?" Felipe's smile was more genuine now. _Would_ he?! That would be wonderful!

"One more thing, Felipe." Felipe scratched his nose as he watched Don Alejandro's lips. "The time has come to teach you to drive a wagon and carriage. You're 12 years old now, so you're old enough to learn how. Once you've learned to drive, I will start sending you into the _pueblo_ to pick up packages, boxes, and other things."

The aged _don_ glanced at his timepiece. "Come; after our chess game and a glass of grape juice, I'll show you how to hitch a wagon. Then I'll give you your first driving lesson. We'll begin Parche's lessons tomorrow."

Felipe smiled more broadly. He had long yearned to learn to drive; now, at last, he was going to get his chance!

_Don Alejandro's the best _patrón_ in the whole world!_ the houseboy thought. _I love him! And Don Diego!_ A pang struck him at the thought that Diego could not be there to see all that he was learning and doing. In an effort to drive the pang off, Felipe wiped his face with a cotton sleeve.

In the months that followed, Felipe was too busy to think about Don Diego, except when he read Diego's letters and wrote his own monthly letters to the _caballero_. Under Miguel's guidance and with Tomaso's assistance, he trained Parche to jump. First, the pinto learned to vault a foot-high plank; as his skill increased, Parche learned to jump higher and higher hurdles. At the same time, Felipe made him gallop every day, trying to teach him to run faster.

At the same time, Don Alejandro taught Felipe to drive, and to hitch wagons and carriages. Felipe was a quick learner; within a week, he was able to drive to the _pueblo_ and back, to pick up purchases for his _patrón_ and to deliver supplies as well.

All that time, Felipe's book lessons continued, both at home and at church. He had long since caught up on his lessons at the mission school, so from the age of 11 onward, he'd been attending one term a year. At the mission school, he and his classmates received lessons in simple arithmetic. The year before, his teacher had taught her pupils to read and write numbers. This year, she taught them to add and subtract. At the same time, the _padre_ continued to teach the children their catechism. He also taught them to carve wood.

At home, Felipe continued to study the Bible and his catechism, as well as his other subjects. He had studied the history, mythology, scientific discoveries, art, and literature of ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece, and Rome. Now he was learning all about the Middle Ages.

The young boy practiced the foreign languages Don Alejandro was teaching him, and continued to memorize poetry and Bible verses, and to copy sentences Don Alejandro dictated, in his copybook. He continued to write essays every day. Don Alejandro taught him how to convert fractions into decimals and percentages, how to use real numbers above and below zero, etc. Diego's old tutor taught him biology. And Felipe took a drawing lesson one day a week and a sculpture lesson on another, as he had done for the last four years.

One day, following an art lesson, Don Alejandro sat Felipe on the drawing room couch. "I've got some great news for you, my boy," he said, leaning against the couch's soft back. "Don Fernando is hosting a _fiesta_ in honor of his son, and you are invited. Among other things, there will be a horse race."

Felipe couldn't believe it. He had never been invited to an aristocrat's party before! He smiled broadly. A _fiesta_?! What fun!

The elderly _caballero's_ eyes twinkled. "You're going to need a good saddle." He paused. "Some time ago, I ordered a new saddle made for Parche, since his old one is getting worn-out. I just received word this morning that it's ready to deliver. I want you to take the wagon into the _pueblo_ and pick it up, all right?" Felipe nodded.

"Miguel is hitching up the wagon as I speak; I sent him an order to have it ready for you minutes ago. While you're there, I want you to take a crate of wine to the tavern." Glancing down, Don Alejandro smoothed his black _charro_ jacket. "I promised Señorita Escalante, yesterday, I'd send her some. Can you do that?"

Felipe nodded again. Inside, he exulted. This would be the first time he had ever driven by himself. He couldn't wait!

His _patrón_ glanced at his timepiece. "Better be on your way, _amigo_!" He laughed as he spoke.

Felipe didn't have to be told twice. The eager young boy raced out the back door and toward the stable. Minutes later, he drove the wagon to town, holding the horses' reins as Don Alejandro had taught him. The wind ruffled his brown hair.

Felipe felt very important and grown-up, driving the wagon like an adult. It wouldn't be long, he knew, until he was as tall as one. In the five years Felipe had lived with the de la Vegas, he had grown by leaps and bounds. Several months before, the servant boy had entered a growth spurt that was still ongoing. Only a few days before, Padre Bernardo had sent him a new wardrobe, just several months after he'd sent the boy his previous one.

Felipe smiled down at his brand-new homespun cotton shirt and his woven-leather sandals. They fit perfectly at the moment, but if his growth spurt continued, Padre Bernardo would have to replace his clothes mere months from then.

_Next year, I'll be a teenager,_ Felipe thought, _and Don Diego will come home to stay. I can't wait! _Santa Maria,_ maybe I'll be as tall as Señorita Escalante!_ He smiled at the thought.

At the tavern, he told Victoria about the bottles of wine; the beautiful tavern owner sent her workers out to the wagon to fetch them. Waving good-bye, Felipe then went to the saddler's to pick up Parche's new saddle.

For a long moment, the boy just ran his fingers over the smooth, soft leather. _Mine!_ he thought, as a breeze caressed his cheeks. _This is for_ my_ horse! I can't wait to use it!_

A thought made him pause. _Si. This is_ my_ saddle. Mine! The property of Felipe-_

The boy paused to think. _The property of Felipe-Felipe-_ He furrowed his eyebrows. _Uh, what is my last name?_

Distress flooded Felipe's heart. _My last name-what_ is_ it?!_ Santa Maria,_ I can't remember! Who were my parents? I can't remember that, either!_

A tap on Felipe's shoulder startled him; he whirled around to find the acting _alcalde_, Sergeant Mendoza, standing behind him. "My apologies, Felipe." The plump sergeant raised his hands. "I have a message for every _caballero_. Would you take this to Don Alejandro?" He handed the servant boy a folded piece of parchment as he spoke.

Felipe nodded. There was no time to worry about his name or the names of his parents now; he had a message to deliver to his _patrón_.

Back at the _hacienda_, Felipe found Don Alejandro in the stable with Miguel, another _vaquero_, and Tomaso. The houseboy handed Don Alejandro the piece of parchment. As the aged _don_ scanned the note, his eyebrows furrowed, then he smiled.

"Well, gentlemen, _muchachos,_ it seems we're getting a new _alcalde_."

Felipe and Tomaso stared at each each other, then gaped at their _patrón_. Don Alejandro glanced at the note again. "I can't tell you much about the gentleman." As he paused, the breeze ruffled his grayish-white hair. "His name is Luis Ramon, and he comes from a distinguished family in Mexico City. He's served as _alcalde_ of San Ysidro for over a decade; now the governor is sending him here. He'll come to Los Angeles, to take up his new command, in just a few weeks."

Miguel nodded. _"Si, patrón."_

Don Alejandro gazed down at Felipe, who stood swinging his _sombrero_ by the string. "Well, Felipe, let's make sure the new saddle fits, shall we?"

Felipe saddled Parche as the others watched. To everyone's relief, the saddle fit the pony perfectly. Felipe led Parche outside, mounted him, and made the pinto trot in circles for the next few minutes. He then rode Parche in a gallop toward the barn and back.

The men applauded as Felipe dismounted; Tomaso stood quietly, without smiling. "Well done, Felipe!" Don Alejandro patted the boy's shoulder. "Well, _amigo,_ think you can get your pony ready for the race at the de la Reales _hacienda_?" Felipe nodded vigorously.

"I'll watch over him while he does," Miguel said. "Tomaso will help."

"_Gracias,_ Miguel." Don Alejandro glanced at his gold timepiece. "Well, Felipe, I've got a task for you in the house. Meet me in the drawing room after you've groomed Parche."

He strode toward the house; followed by Tomaso, Felipe led Parche into the stable. In the pinto's stall, Felipe removed the new saddle. As he glanced at the stable boy, he nearly dropped the saddle in dismay. Tomaso just glared at him, his lower lip thrust out. Felipe gaped at him.

"It's not fair!" Tomaso burst out, in response to the question on Felipe's face. "You get to be in a race, and I don't! I've been workin' with horses longer than you; I oughta be in the race, too!"

He whirled around, nodded, then turned to Felipe, lower lip thrust out. Miguel had apparently spoken sharply to Tomaso. "We got work to do. Let's get started, or Miguel'll get mad."

Sighing, Felipe bent to his work. The joy he had felt at the prospect of a race had drained away. He liked Tomaso, and did not want the boy to be jealous of him.

_What am I gonna do?_ he silently wondered, rubbing Parche's back with the brush. _I want to be in the race, too! I want to win. But I also want Tomaso to be my friend._ The houseboy sighed again.

The next few weeks were busy ones. Felipe spent every spare minute with Parche, training him for the race under Miguel's supervision. Tomaso helped, but reluctantly. The other boy's bitterness and jealousy cast a shadow over Felipe's joyous anticipation. The two boys rarely spoke, and avoided each other when Felipe wasn't training the pinto.

The morning of the _fiesta_, Felipe woke up feeling worn out. That puzzled him, for he had slept well the night before.

Felipe turned his head. At the other end of the one-room hut, Pablo Gomez was donning a faded homespun cotton shirt, and his wife, Juana, was twisting her hair into a bun.

The listless boy dragged himself to his feet and opened the door. A cool breeze ruffled his brown hair. _The sky's so blue and pretty, and the breeze feels good,_ he thought. _It's a nice day for the party!_

Slowly, Felipe returned to his corner to roll up his straw mat. Silently, he gave himself a mental shake. He still had to get dressed and to comb his hair. Moreover, he had to hurry. The Gomezes would be irritated with him if he held them up.

After breakfast, Don Alejandro took the servant boy to the de la Reales _hacienda_. "I'll see you tonight, _amigo_." The aged _don_ ruffled Felipe's hair. "I hope you won't be too excited from the festivities to sleep then. Our new _alcalde's_ scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning, and we're supposed to go into town to meet him."

Felipe nodded. He doubted that would happen. He still felt tired and drained of energy. Silently, he wondered if he would be up to racing Parche that day.

_I don't feel good,_ he thought. _I can't tell Don Alejandro, because he'll make me stay home, and I can't. Today's the day of the party and race. I can't miss them, and I won't!_

Wearily, Felipe straightened his back and tried to look excited. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at his _patrón_, sitting tall and straight in the saddle as usual, immaculately dressed in his snow-white linen shirt, his grayish-blue frockcoat and trousers, and his blue satin vest. A white silk cravat encircled the aged _don's_ collar. Felipe smiled wanly. _At least the breeze feels good,_ he thought.

As the two of them approached the de la Reales _hacienda_, Don Alejandro glanced at the young boy. "Felipe, remember the table manners I've taught you?" Felipe nodded. "Well, I want you to use them when you eat your dinner. The other children will be doing the same." Felipe nodded acquiescence.

Don Fernando greeted the two as Felipe dismounted. "Well, Felipe, are you ready to join the other children?" Felipe nodded.

"I'll see you later, _amigo_." Don Alejandro raised his hand in a two-finger salute and galloped away on his white mare, Dulcinea. Don Fernando waved good-bye to his old friend as Don Alejandro rode off.

A waiting _vaquero_ led the pinto away. Don Fernando turned toward Felipe. "Parche will be ready and waiting when it's time for the race." The _caballero_ patted the boy's shoulder. "Come, let's join the other children, shall we?"

Felipe did his best to walk with a spring in his step. Silently, as he made the sign of the cross, he prayed that the sickness, whatever it was, would go away, allowing him to participate in the festivities and enjoy himself.

In the enclosed _patio_, Felipe joined a group of other boys and girls. Most of them were the children of _caballeros_, and a few were peasants like Felipe.

"_Hola,_ Felipe!" Julio greeted him. He had on a pale-orange outfit with a silk Vandyke collar. "Come join us! We're about to play a new game."

And play they did. For the next few hours, the children participated in a variety of games. As time went on, it became harder and harder for Felipe to take part. At last, he begged off, explaining with signs that he was too tired.

The servant boy leaned against a column and rubbed his aching head. Felipe was upset. Why did he have to be sick that day? Grimly, he renewed his decision to hide the way he felt. He did _not_ want to be sent home if he could help it!

At lunchtime, the children sat at a long dining table outside. They ate roast pheasant, _albondiga_ soup, _tortillas,_ and orange slices. Felipe remembered to use his napkin and silverware properly, and to rinse his fingers in his finger bowl; so did the other children.

Normally, the food would have been delicious, but that day, Felipe was unable to enjoy it. As he'd had to do at breakfast, he had to choke down every mouthful. The young boy ached in every limb, and it hurt to swallow. Señor and Señora de la Reales glanced at him and exchanged concerned looks.

As servants cleared the dishes away, Don Fernando led Felipe aside. Without a word, he felt the young boy's forehead. "You're ill." It was not a question. "I'm afraid you won't be racing Parche, my boy."

Misery welled up in Felipe's gut. He looked downward and took a deep breath. Don Fernando cupped his fingers under the boy's chin and raised his head upward. "Felipe, answer this question. Do you know of anyone who could take your place in the race?"

Felipe started to shake his head, then froze. Tomaso! Tomaso had helped Felipe train Parche; he could race the pinto! The question was, would the stable boy be willing to?

Don Fernando watched intently as Felipe signed his answer. "You think that stable boy, Tomaso, could race Parche in your place?" Felipe nodded.

"All right." Don Fernando squeezed the boy's shoulder. "I'll send a note to Don Alejandro and ask him to send Tomaso here. You may stay for the race, _amigo,_ but then I'm sending you home. You are quite ill, and you need to be in bed. You may have the flu; it's been going around lately. Three of my _vaqueros_ have it."

Felipe acquiesced reluctantly. Silently, he prayed that Tomaso would come. As bitter and resentful toward Felipe as the stable boy had felt in recent weeks, he might just refuse out of spite.

_Please, God,_ Felipe prayed silently, _make him come!_ He made the sign of the cross again, glancing down at the rows of stone tiles at his feet.

The sick boy plopped onto a high-backed bench and sat slumped. Long minutes passed while he waited. Over and over, a picture arose in his mind: Don Fernando and Don Alejandro approaching him with sad expressions on their faces, and with the news that Tomaso had refused to come. The thought made Felipe feel nauseous.

The young boy rubbed his brown eyes and slouched against the hard, unyielding bench. Wearily, he closed his eyes. Bed, he felt sure, would feel so good. Even though he usually slept on a straw mat in the Gomez hut, Felipe had rested in Don Alejandro's bed on the several occasions he had been sick.

_I'll be sleeping in a bed every night when Don Diego comes home,_ Felipe thought. _Don Alejandro's going to move me into the house then. I'll have my own room._

A tap on his shoulder made him start. His brown eyes shot open and he straightened his back. In the next instant, a broad grin spread across his face. In front of him stood Tomaso!

"Don Fernando sent a _vaquero_ to say you're sick," the stable boy said. "So Don Alejandro brought me here. I'm goin' to race Parche; the _patrón's_ goin' to take us both back after the race." The smile lighting his face faded away.

Felipe nodded. It would be good to lie in bed and get the rest he desperately needed, but first he yearned to see the race. Silently, he prayed that Parche would win.

The children gathered in the pasture minutes later, with Julio's parents, several _vaqueros_, and Don Alejandro. Four of them mounted ponies; one of them, Tomaso, climbed up on Parche. Next to Julio, Felipe clutched his handkerchief. Don Alejandro stood several feet away, hands clasped behind his back. Wisps of clouds floated in the distance.

A _vaquero_ raised a pistol above his head and pulled the trigger. Felipe felt a vibration in the air, but heard nothing. The four ponies and their riders were off in a cloud of dust.

Felipe held his breath. _Come on, Parche! You can do it!_ He made the sign of the cross and glanced at the cloudless sky.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Three. One of the other boys reached the post first; Parche reached it next.

Felipe silently gulped. _Do it, Parche! You can do it. You can!_ He and Julio glanced at each other. Felipe wiped his face.

Another minute passed. Parche caught up with the other horse; the other two trailed behind. Yet another minute passed. Parche galloped ahead.

The _vaquero_ held up a huge red ribbon. Parche raced right past it, knocking it out of the man's hand.

The other children jumped up and down, waving their arms above their heads and shouting cheers Felipe couldn't hear. He didn't feel up to jumping, but he did exhale a slow breath, smiling broadly. _You did it, Parche! You did it!_ He stuffed his handkerchief into his sash.

Tomaso dismounted and led Parche toward Felipe and Julio, a broad grin etching his round face. Don Alejandro approached them as Felipe took the reins. "Parche is good!" Tomaso said. "Isn't he, _patrón_?"

"He certainly is!" Don Alejandro put an arm around Felipe's shoulders and hugged him to his side. "And you did an excellent job of training him! I'm proud of you, Felipe. I'm proud of you both." He ruffled Tomaso's hair. The three boys smiled happily.

Don Alejandro turned to face Felipe. He frowned as he felt the boy's hot forehead. "Come, my boy. Let's go home. The place for you is in bed. I'll send one of the other servants for Dr. Hernandez when we get there." The aged _don_ bit his lower lip. "Maria is falling ill, too; I've already sent her to bed. This flu bug seems to be going around; at least three of my ranchhands also have it, and there may be more to follow. I'm going to ask Señorita Escalante to send the household some food until Maria can cook, once more."

Felipe winced, then nodded reluctantly. He didn't want to miss the rest of the party, or the arrival of the new _alcalde_ the following day. As sick as he felt, though, he knew he had no choice. Don Alejandro led Felipe and Tomaso toward the front of the _hacienda_, where the elderly _caballero's_ carriage waited. Julio and his father went with them to say good-bye.

**ZZZZZ**

Felipe sat in the library, reading _The Legend of the Cid_. His left leg dangled over the far end of the satin brocade couch; the soft mattress sagged underneath his weight. The book's soft, leather-bound covers lay open in Felipe's outstretched hands.

Ever since he had studied that book as part of his integrated social studies curriculum, he had thoroughly enjoyed reading the epic poem. During the weeks he and several other de la Vega servants and ranchhands had spent recovering from their bouts with the flu, including Tomaso-all mild cases, much to theirs and Don Alejandro's relief-Felipe had spent much of his time reading. Now that he and the others were well, he hoped he could ride to town soon, and that Don Alejandro would be able to smile again.

_Don Alejandro was kept busy, nursing us all,_ Felipe thought. _We all slept in the same room, till we started getting well. Even Tomaso. I'm glad the _patrón_ didn't get sick, too!_

As Felipe glanced down at his clothes, he also hoped the _patrón_ would soon order him some new outfits from Padre Bernardo. His sleeves felt skin-tight against his elbows, and his sandals pinched his toes when he walked. _I'm still growing fast,_ he thought.

Try as he did, Felipe had a hard time keeping his mind on the Cid's adventures. He was too worried about Don Alejandro. The _patrón_ had not been happy for some time, and Felipe sensed it wasn't only because there had been sickness going around. _He's sad about something,_ Felipe thought. _What?_ He sighed. _I wish I could cheer him up. Maybe if I made him a present-_

The familiar scent of cologne wafted toward the servant boy's nose. Felipe looked up to see Don Alejandro standing before him, dressed in an elegant outfit the aged _don_ had recently ordered. The boy planted his left leg on the Oriental carpet, inserted a bookmark into the book to mark his place, and set it on the table in front of him. He glanced down at his too-tight clothes; his trousers were halfway above his ankles. _They're getting too small for me,_ he thought.

"Felipe, _amigo,_ we need to talk." Don Alejandro sat on the couch next to the boy as he spoke. A sad, grim expression had replaced the elderly _caballero's_ usual twinkle, the same expression that had etched his face for weeks now. Felipe took a deep breath, dreading what his _patrón_ had to say.

Don Alejandro laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Felipe, I'm afraid that, until further notice, I can't let you go to town." He squeezed Felipe's shoulder.

A stunned, stricken Felipe gaped at him and signed a question. Don Alejandro smiled kindly and shook his head. "No, _amigo,_ it's not because of anything wrong you've done. It's for your own safety." He took a deep breath. "The new _alcalde_ is wicked, Felipe; in the few weeks he's been here, he's jailed, flogged, and executed a number of people unjustly. He's raised the taxes higher than any poor farmer can afford to pay, and when the farmers have failed to pay them, he's arrested and jailed them."

Felipe just sat there, stunned. He had _so_ hoped that Don Luis Ramon would be a good _alcalde_, as his predecessor had been.

Don Alejandro gazed at the boy. "I don't know what he would do to servant boys, Felipe, and I have _no_ desire to find out. Until I'm satisfied that you can go to the _pueblo_ safely, I want you to stay away from there."

Don Alejandro paused for a moment, sighing. Felipe felt sad, himself. Anything that made his _patrón_ unhappy made him unhappy, too, and right now, Don Alejandro was clearly unhappy. He knew, now, that it would take more than a gift to cheer up his master. The young boy sat slumped and stared down at his trouser-clad legs for a long moment. The mattress sagged underneath his weight.

Don Alejandro looked back at the boy. Smiling tenderly, he squeezed Felipe's shoulder again. "You may still go to the neighboring farms and _haciendas_, Felipe, but only when one of us is with you-preferably myself. I hope this ugly situation won't last long; the other _caballeros_ and I are going to do everything in our power to change it. But until it _is_ changed, I must take extra measures to keep you and my other servants safe. The priest has agreed to come here to hold mass and confession for my household, until further notice."

Felipe sighed out his surrender. Suddenly, an awful thought occurred to him. His _patrón_ watched as Felipe signed a question. "Oh, catechism class? The mission school? Your confirmation?" Felipe nodded. "The priest is going to hold those classes here until you're confirmed. And you're going to be confirmed in the family chapel. You've got just one session in the mission school to go, you know, before that day comes."

Felipe reluctantly nodded his acquiescence. He had no choice. _Please, God,_ he prayed, _do something about the new_ alcalde_ and make him stop hurting people._

Don Alejandro patted his arm. "Well, Felipe, what do you say we resume your lessons?" Felipe nodded. "We'll go riding later." He chuckled. "I can't believe how fast you're growing! I see I'm going to have to ask the _padre_ to send you some new clothes."

Felipe smiled in spite of himself. Don Alejandro gathered the servant boy's school materials and spread them out on the coffee table. Felipe leaned forward, ready to do his lessons.

**THE END  
**

21


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